Court-ing Sandra Day O’Connor’s Successor
Time to nominate someone to the Supreme Court. A defining moment for the country, a rare event that we have not witnessed in … well, at least it has been a few weeks.
You may recall that I had some damn good suggestions for nominees back then. Alas, our Chief Executive seems to have focused on advice from so-called “experts” rather than a rant from a wise-ass blogger. Now I know why folks say the guy’s front porch is missing a few light bulbs.
You know what I mean. If you don’t, nod your head and move on.
Not that the boss (Bush, not Springsteen) did a bad job with his pick. As I wrote upon his nomination, John Roberts was about as good a choice as we could have hoped for. (Other than Britney Spears, Tom Cruise, or Will Ferrell, of course. But I won’t cry over lost opportunities, over my presidential spurning, or over the future of the country’s jurisprudence—which is now tragically in the hands of a Chief Justice with credentials and class, instead of a punchline celebrity.)
The bad news is that William Rehnquist, generally considered to be a fun and decent man, passed away, leading us into another potentially ugly couple of months. The good news?
Thanks for asking. The good news, you might suspect, is that I have some NEW suggestions for the Prez.
1. Donald Rumsfeld. Having nominated the 50 year-old John Roberts to the bench, Bush has dangerously lowered the average age of the Supreme Court below that of the Chinese Politburo. At least the President’s critics cannot criticize a septuagenarian pick as someone who will be interpreting the nation’s laws for decades to come.
I can already see senators lining up at the confirmation hearings—like bat-wielding passengers in the movie Airplane!—to ask Rumsfeld if he would show the same respect for the Constitution that he has with the whole “enemy combatant” trick, which allows US citizens to be held behind bars indefinitely, without any visitors or regular access to a lawyer. This would be about as subdued and dignified as the O.J. trial, and isn’t America desperate for some good reality TV?
2. David Akers. The kicker for the Eagles hurt his leg in last Sunday’s game during the opening kickoff and nearly fell over. And then he got right back behind the ball—and kicked off again with reckless disregard for his own body, causing him to roll on the ground in agonizing pain.
That’s the kind of go-get-‘em attitude the High Court needs. My sources tell me that Clarence Thomas starts looking at his watch at 3:30—and that every time David Souter cuts his finger on a legal brief, he cries like a Superdome baby.
3. Demi Moore. Now that our favorite former Charlie’s Angel is a respectable woman again (having married Ashton Kutcher, the love child she conceived with Rob Lowe on the set of About Last Night), she is a safe “family-values” candidate for the right. Yet the left will still like her because of her stunning portrayals of both a starving stripper and a perpetrator of sexual harassment against men—the latter making her Hilary Rodham Clinton’s wet panty dream.
And with Sandra Day O’Connor stepping down, the President is under some real pressure to name a woman.
You could say the ball is in his court to get someone without balls in the Court. Someone other than David Souter, that is.